Burning Feathers
by aajjmm1
Summary: "The White Phoenix is an outcast, she does not belong; She burns too bright, she burns too strong;" My mother told me that nursery rhyme when I was little, and I never really understood what it meant to be a 'White Phoenix' until I came here. There's just something about burning feathers that make them so much more beautiful, don't you think?


Those words kept ringing through my head: _"You Failed! You failed! You Failed!" _Another day of failure to add to the week we've had… My head hurts.

I tossed my axe into the makeshift lockers that had been assigned to us on day one. The head of it ended up sticking in the back panelling of wood. _Great._

"Yo, Pyro! What da hell was dat out dere?" A young man swaggered up to me, gesturing to me with his metal bat. "Ya let dat guy stab me in tha back! Ya couldn'ta burned his ass or sumthin'?" He casually leaned on his bat, hand on his hip and looking at me with a more annoyed than angry look. I crossed my arms and let my weight fall to my left leg. _"Your fault," _although it came out as more of a "Mfh Fhhm," because of my mask. It didn't matter, I've been here long enough that he should understand me by now.

"My fault?!" His stance became more rigid. "Yeah, _totally my fault" _The sarcasm is strong with this one. I just threw up my hands and let out a sigh. I didn't want to deal with this right now. All I want is food and sleep. I turned my body away from him and just walked out of the respawn room, surprised he didn't follow me. The losses have been getting to everyone I guess, even _Scout._

I lazily walked to the kitchen and started on dinner. Everyone else here was terrible with cooking beside Spy and Sniper, and neither one of them wanted to do it today when we talked this morning; so it ended up being my job on this _fine _day. I scanned over what we had in the fridge: eggs, a slab of meat, carrots, onions, five of Heavy's custom made Sanviches (not touching those), about two gallons of milk, God knows how many cans of _BONK! Atomic Punch, _some wrinkled fruit, and a lollipop. _Wait. _My head swung back to where the lollipop was, quickly realizing it was my extra fire axe. I placed a hand on where my temple would be if I didn't have my gas mask on. There goes the visions again. I really do wonder how my axe keeps ending up in here.

Sometime between cooking and dragging out pans and pots and the like, I pulled my axe from the fridge and walked up to my room to put it away. "Herr Pyro! I need to talk to you for a zecond!" The Medic's voice made me crack a grin; I already knew what he was going to ask of me.

I turned and placed a hand in front of me, stopping the German in his tracks. "Mho," I said, damning the mask again. "Vat Pyro-" My hands flew to my hips, foot tapping to inforce my stance in the argument. I loved it when Medic did this. Satisfied my sadistic side to see him squirm. He looked me up and down before letting out the breath he was holding.

"Fine. No phyzical. Vat I _atleast_ vant your weight. Be in my office later with your extra zuit so that I may take the divrence." He turned around in a flourish making his lab coat flare out behind him like wings, or were those really wings? Darn visions.

"REPORT TO THE TABLE IN T-MINUS FIVE MINUTES MAGGOT! IF YOU ARE NOT AT THAT TABLE AT THE REQUIRED TIME, I WILL PERSONALLY COME AND DRAG YOU BY YOUR DAINTY LITTLE ANKLES AND SIT YOU DOWN LIKE THE WOMAN YOU ARE! UNDERSTOOD PRIVATE?" Soldier had asked me when dinner would be ready and his yelling at everyone of our teammates is what resulted in my response. I started cracking my knuckles one by one while I waited for the rice to finish steaming. With each crack came a bit of relief to my overworked hands. I swung open a cupboard and pulled out the ceramic plates for everyone, nine in total. My tired body automatically arranged the places at our crude dining table, leaving out four plates just incase one of the regular ditchers decided to ditch again; that was Medic, Spy, Sniper, and I. I always ate in my room even if it meant eating late depending if I wanted to bond with my team or not. Today was probably not one of the days where I would stick around for the group dinner. Sore muscles and a tired mind do not equal a very social Pyro.

As soon as the timer to the pot of homemade Japanese curry dinged, everyone started piling into the mess hall as to not be left without food. Heavy was surprisingly first as always, getting the majority of the meal. God only knows how that big man moves so fast that he's always first in line for meals. Next came Scout, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a hyperactive bunny on 50 cups of straight caffeine. He took almost as much as Heavy did, a real impressive amount for a young man of his size. The rest of the team filed in a bit slower than the first two, taking more reasonable portions of rice and curry to fill their empty stomachs.

"Not feeling well today Pyro?" Asked an indifferent Spy. "You made a zimple meal today, Oui?" He shoveled some rice on his plate, _fancily _I should say. "Et has been a hard week. I understand. Perapz we will do bettar tomorrow." The Frenchman looked at me without turning his head away from the pot. His curry was placed perfectly beside his rice, just overlapping a touch. He paid attention to detail, it worried me a little. He always seemed to be more pleasant towards me rather than the other members of the team, like he _knew _something. It was unnerving. I never liked the way he acted like he knew things. It was his job, yes, but it scared me. I slowly nodded my head, holding my hands close to my chest as he walked out of the kitchen and off to his private room. Now was the best time to get my food I suppose.

I reached for the spoon lying between the burners only to bump my hand into another. My eyes gaze from behind the lenses of my mask to meet with amber tinted aviator glasses. "Sorry mate." He quickly pulled his hand back, unfamiliar with the sensation of physical contact. At least, that's what I assumed. The Sniper wasn't a social man, but he was always nice to me. Taking the spoon, I shake my head a bit and make a "_It's O.K." _kind of noise. Sniper was the second best at determining what I say from time to time, the first being our Engineer. We didn't spend that much time together, so I assumed that he was just one of those people.

I made a plate of curry and rice and placed it in his hands, knowing that he felt rather awkward and wanted to get back to his campervan parked out in the back of the building. "Oh, thanks," he mumbled. He kind of stood there, shifting his feet for a few seconds before he spoke again while I was making my plate. "Hey, uh, thanks for that out there mate. Ya really saved my hide with that soldier's rockets." I finished making my plate and gave him a thumbs-up. Every once in a while Sniper would say thanks to a teammate for saving his tail or compliment them on their performance. It was really nice to hear him when he said these things, as rare as they were. I gave him a short pat on the back as I walked off to my room. My stomach was growling at the filtered smell of food, and I couldn't wait to get my gear off and satisfy my hunger.

Later that night, after everyone had fed themselves and went to bed, I gathered up my shower supplies and hopped down the stairs towards the communal showers. There were reasons that I kept my mask and suit on and showered late at night. Really important ones. When I was first hired, my employer didn't care about if I kept this secret or not. After a few months though, when I was dispatched to this site and joined with my team, her assistant, Miss Pauling, told me that it was probably in my best interest to keep what I was under wraps. The Administrator enjoyed drama and really didn't care whether the other mercenaries found out, but Miss Pauling knew the trouble that it would cause throwing a girl into the team. So every week I would get my supplies marked in a separate box and delivered straight to my room as to not cause too much suspicion. Pauling took it upon herself to choose the contents of this box. Nice _RED_ brand friz-management shampoo, _RED _brand soothing oatmeal body wash, every once in a while a fancy shower poof, some _special necessities_ if you know what I mean, _RED_ brand shaving cream with aloe (never had that at home let me tell you that), and a brand new custom made box of _MANN CO. Lady Razors! Now with 25% more animal mangling!_ every month.(Saxton Hale doesn't understand that animal testing doesn't mean beating them up and slapping that you did it on a box of whatever you sell, not that the real thing is any better though). And every day I would come down here late at night as to not get seen by everyone, as to not crash and burn the nice equilibrium we have.

I turned the shower head onto its hottest setting and set to work scrubbing the dried sweat and oil off my tired body. I honestly always hated water, except when I showered. Something about scrubbing off the day prior was a sweet luxury to me. I ran my fingers through my hair, massaging all of the tangled curly locks of fire. That's when I heard it; the soft clack of soles on linoleum. I froze and listened, hoping that no one was actually there, that it was just my imagination.

One, two, three, four seconds passed. _Clack, clack, clack. _I twisted the hot water off, almost breaking the handle. The sound of foot steps were getting closer to me. My body turned on its own towards my discarded asbestos fire suit, my safe haven, my rescue! I scrambled for it, feet clumsily grasping the tile, and ultimately slipping. _No. _This can't happen. I tried to right myself and get up again, only to slip on the water covered floor. My one weakness, my _opposite_ is going to be my downfall. How fitting.

"Oi! Is everything awright in here? Oi heard-" Sniper stopped in his tracks when he saw me and I laid flat on my stomach so his view would be limited. I thank God everyday for my small chest size. "Wot the bloody hell is a sheila doin' ere?" His eyes glance over to my suit and mask, quickly putting two and two together. "...Pyro? Is that you?" My head nods slowly, damp fiery curls sticking to my face. A towel slowly comes into my vision, the owner of it looking away as to give me privacy. I hesitantly get up and wrap the fabric around me. It's over, he's going to blab to everyone and the team is going to be worse off than it was before.

"Oihm sorry bout that Py, Oi really didn't know, Oi mean-," He raised a hand to cover his face, placing his thumb and forefinger over his temples, "Oi left moi contacts in here," Contacts? "Oi really didn't mean to…" His voice trailed off.

"Snipes, it's fine." I flinched when I said his name, my voice being so audible unnatural to me.

"Oi promise Oi won't tell anyone." Wait, what? I stared at him, wondering what his angle was. "Ya kept this a secret for so long, there's gotta be a good reason rioght?" He walked over to the long mirror on the wall, where all the mercs stand at the sinks to get ready in the mornings and nights.

"How can I trust you?" Harsh, my voice sounds harsh. It stops his hand before he can grab a small case. I never thought that Sniper would need anything optomical. He proceeds to grab it and open the small object with a _click_. He stares at them, sitting in their pool of liquid purification. Only his lips move, and even then I cannot see them clearly. "Cause Oi had a secret once, und I know how terribol it is when somethin' like that gets out." He dips his middle finger into the solution, pulling out a small crescent moon. The cresent moon goes into his blue-grey eyes, disappearing like it was never there. A second later, his other eye is given the same treatment. "That's betta."

I slowly lift one foot and place it down again, the wet-padding sound echoing in the bathroom. It's followed by another, and another until I'm right beside him, clutching the sleeve of his shirt. I don't look at him; I keep my head down, one hand on the soft, faded-red towel.

"If I hear one peep about any of this out of anyone but you, I will wreck your ass so hard that you won't be able to move for a week." He gives a chuckle. It's odd on him, a person who is usually so stoic by nature. Yet, at the same time, it sounds nice. "Now let me finish my shower damn it…"


End file.
